


No Song Without You

by sparrowluna



Series: Don't You Wanna Be Mine? [1]
Category: Descendants (Disney Movies), The Isle of the Lost Series - Melissa de la Cruz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Dark!Jay, Dark!Jaylos, Dark!Malvie, Darkfic, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Evil!Evie AU, F/F, Gen, Isle of the Lost (Disney), M/M, Non-Consensual, POV Carlos, POV Evie, POV Mal (Disney), Psychological Horror, Reader Discretion is Advised, detailed CW inside
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:20:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26925010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparrowluna/pseuds/sparrowluna
Summary: In this prequel toGirls That Glitter Love the Dark, Evie begins her process of doll-making as Mal reflects on her mother's fate; meanwhile, after days of hunting through the city without result, Jay returns to the Castle-Across-The-Way with a wish fulfilled for the newly risen princess of the Isle. (That's not to say Jay doesn't have his own motives in granting that certain wish of hers.)Note: Please read the tags very, very carefully before deciding whether or not to sip this particular cup of tea.
Relationships: Evie & Carlos de Vil, Evie & Jay (Disney), Evie/Mal (Disney), Jay/Carlos de Vil, Mal & Evil Queen (minor), Mal & Maleficent (Disney)
Series: Don't You Wanna Be Mine? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1964611
Comments: 16
Kudos: 30





	1. Somewhat Damaged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Huge thank you to @malvies_toxicaria and @taytayloulou for the excellent ideas they shared to inspire this prequel to _Girls That Glitter Love the Dark_.** @taytayloulou got me thinking a lot about the potential for dark!Jaylos in this AU, so we're kicking that off with this chap (more of everyone to come in the next one, as well).
> 
> Also, thank you so much to everyone who commented on _Girls That Glitter_! As I noted there, I've never written anything this dark for public consumption. I was kinda nervous about it, but everyone's been super lovely and it's really assuring, so, um... I kinda went even darker with this one haha. I really hope you all enjoy it as much as the first one! I'll try to get the second chap up before Halloween, but no promises since I'm in the middle of a move rn and things are kind of hectic for the next couple weeks. <3
> 
> Oh, by the way, I made a playlist for this series while I was writing this, so if you feel like listening to something dark and chill while you read, [you can listen on Spotify](http://open.spotify.com/playlist/7dbqx1au5NHn1LZNo9DiIa?si=9FBR7PKuR0miRgCIQT0rcg). (Note that this playlist is more about the sound than the lyrics, so not all of the lyrics are relevant to the story.) Artists featured on this playlist include: Portishead, Sevdaliza, Tsar B, Ramsey, Chelsea Wolfe, BANKS, etc.
> 
> Anyway, I know for sure this won't be everyone's cup of tea, but I hope if you've clicked into this fic, you've exercised your Reader Discretion. If at any point you need to nope out of here, you know where the back button is. I hope you'll enjoy the read though!
> 
> **Detailed CW for this fic can be found in the end notes due to a huge amount of spoilers (refer to tags for general CW).**

A doll could be made of easier, more malleable things than a girl.

A doll could be made of mud and clay, wood and wires, or rags and stuffing—could be made to look, if swaddled, as a real thing, but—

It’d be just a doll. Not more than that. Not a pretty thing. Not _enviable_.

Evie wanted a doll _no one else could have._ She wanted a doll that felt real to the touch—one of the dolls she’d seen in the thrown-out magazines from Auradon: the sort that ate and cried and went to sleep and said “I love you” if you touched them right. She wanted a doll—brand new and beautiful, right out of the box, not a scuff or a scent of garbage, not a broken thing abandoned by the girl before—

Evie wanted a doll for years and years, and _now—_ now, she almost had one.

* * *

Mal lay stretched out on the sewing table, her arms and legs secured with ropes she couldn’t hope to break from. It’d been Jay who held her down and tied the knots, but it’d been Evie the one to spread her legs like this and cut her clothes away, one piece at a time, leaving not but a stray thread—

Until she plucked and tossed that, too.

“Please, _please,”_ Mal had tried to beg, to endear herself to Evie, “you don’t have to do this! E, we’re— we’re…” What? _Friends?_ No. They had never been. Hadn’t been much of anything but rivals, even in the way they fucked in daylight; they were two queens going head to head, two queens with crowns like antlers. Mal had lost her crown when her mother fell. _She hadn’t been prepared, hadn’t expected…_

But the Evil Queen had made her see it all.

Her mother chained to the pyre, her horns cut down to the root, the flicker of fear in her eyes as—

She’d been lit like a candle from the crown of her skull, doused in chemicals to ensure she burned _long_ —slow enough that she filled the nights with her music, because the thing was—fae were near-to-gods; hard to kill, but not impossible. They could burn, if you were patient, if you could stomach that much cruelty; it was akin to taking several lives, several skins and souls, one after the other—

_They could burn for days in the right chains._

And Mal had never loved her mother, no.

But to see her dying that way was—like a part of her dying in flames, too.

_She’d never have her full name now. Not unless she took it off her mother’s corpse, her memory—_

Mal closed her eyes and swallowed hard, trying to find the girl within her who deserved that name.

_Had she burned, or was she still here? If she was, would this be happening? Would she be tied down like some squealing hog? Would she have let that bitch-queen take her? No, she had fight in her still. She had deep rage._

_She was angry in a way that eclipsed the fear._

When Evie slid the thick, cold rod between her legs, Mal screamed her wildest fury—

“YOU BITCH!” she screeched out, thrashing. “You stupid, ugly, scheming _bitch!_ ” Her hips bucked on the last word, and she screamed more for the hatred of her pleasure, the love of her pain. _“I hate you,”_ she whispered, her voice hoarse. “You and your _cunt-mother,_ queen of _shit,_ one day… you _wait,_ I’ll—”

Evie pursed her lips and thrust the rod in deeper.

Mal’s screaming stopped, about a minute later—

She couldn’t scream past the apple that’d been shoved into her mouth.

Her tongue was pinned beneath it, her jaw stretched to its breaking point; she could _hear_ her muscles straining, hear the echo of her own pain. She could feel the sting of hot tears—feel the sting of Evie’s hand, too. She’d been struck several times for her refusal, her _inability_ to “stop it—stop it _right now.”_

Evie’s hand was raised to strike again when she heard footsteps in the hallway. She turned away a moment, listening, then glanced back at her half-finished project. “You’ll just have to wait,” she told the doll-that-wasn’t-yet, slipping quickly out of her apron and brushing her hands off on her skirt.

She’d just turned to answer the door when it banged wide open, loud as thunder, making her sigh.

Jay was standing in the threshold, his arms full of a wriggling sack of something, one leg raised from having kicked the door in. _“Princess,”_ he greeted with a bow of his head, unfazed by Evie’s sour look.

“Thought I trained you to knock,” she muttered, her sharp eyes darting to the angry-looking sack.

“Guess not,” Jay replied with a chuckle, “but I think you’ll forgive me when you see what I brought.” He bounced the sack on his shoulder as he spoke, then gave a firm pat to a bulge beneath the burlap.

“Is that so?” asked Evie, incredulous.

Jay just flashed her a grin as he walked toward the bed, never one to pretend a knight’s chivalry.

Evie sniffed at his behaviour (and a bit at his sweat), but she drew a little nearer, still curious to see—

Jay threw her a glance to be sure she was watching, then flopped the bag down so it bounced on the mattress. “If it pleases my lady,” he teased with a wink, “she can thank me later.” And with that, he drew a knife as if out of thin air, slicing a knot off the top of the sack. He stepped backwards slowly.

Evie gasped at the sight of what wriggled out, one hand pressed to her mouth like she didn’t quite believe. “He’s—you found…?” She looked at Jay, who shrugged and grinned at her. “Oh, _Carlos…”_

Evie rushed to the bed with an eager smile, grabbing Carlos up into a tight hug. He was stiff in her arms, face flushed, his dark eyes wide and flickering. His arms were bound behind his back, and he was breathing hard into a knotted cloth gag, chest heaving against Evie as she held him in her grip.

“Poor pup,” she murmured, drawing back to have a look at him. “If you’d just come when I called you…” She sighed a little, then tried for a smile again. “Well, you’re home now, and that’s all that matters, so… let’s get that muzzle off,” she teased, reaching behind Carlos’ head to untie the gag.

She made a face as the drool-soaked knot fell out from Carlos’ mouth and onto her lap. “Jay,” she said simply, gesturing for him to retrieve it. He was quick to do so, and her smile returned. “Hey, it’s okay,” she said softly, gazing at Carlos, who was stiff and panting. “She’s not here, she can’t hurt—”

“D-DON’T TOUCH ME!” Carlos burst out, suddenly animate the very moment Evie tried to pet his curls. She dropped her hand as he scrambled away from her—so quick and so desperate, he spilled right off the bed, landing hard on the floor with one leg in the sack and his arms still tightly bound.

Jay exchanged a worried glance with Evie, who gestured subtly for him to stay where he was.

They turned their attention back to Carlos, slowly struggling to his feet like a newborn colt, eyes frantic as he looked between them both. “What’s going o-on?” he choked out, voice cracking at the sight of Mal on the table behind them, plainly naked, with all her limbs bound. She’d been staring at him, red-eyed—her jaws agape in what he thought was a silent scream until he saw the glint of apple instead of tongue. He took a slow step back, quivering from fear and confusion. “I—I d-d-don’t…”

“Look at me,” Evie demanded, moving to block Carlos’ view of her project—or its face, at least.

Carlos shook his head, stumbling back until he hit the wall or the furniture or _something._ He leaned heavily against it, feeling his knees quake. He was so tired, so heavy, he couldn’t stay on his feet—

He’d been running all week—since smoke first blackened the sky. Nearly caught once or twice, but he’d gotten away, disappeared into shadows. Not tonight, of course. Tonight, he’d—

He’d listened to Jay, when he’d asked him to wait. He’d heard something in his voice that was just so honest, so desperate and vulnerable, and—when he’d turned around, he’d seen Jay’s eyes; they were open to him, pleading. “I just want to talk,” he’d promised. “I won’t hurt you, Cee—you _know_ that.”

It was much the same as Evie said to him now, prowling closer to Carlos with her arms outstretched.

He couldn’t run, but he still shied from her touch. He shook his head at every word she spoke, and tried to lock his jaw when she produced the vial, because _he knew, he knew, he knew_ the sight of that thing and its medicine—knew its taste and its smell, and how his body would crave it—

_He couldn’t risk that again, not for any pain—not for anything._

Evie kneeled down in front of him, studying his face as she uncorked the vial and dipped a finger into the liquid. “I remember,” she said quietly, pushing her finger between his lips—running the tip of it over his clenched teeth, his gum line, “how you used to beg me for more.” (She smiled at him, but there was sadness there.) “You tried to steal it once. I remember that, too, naughty pup…” She dipped her finger in the liquid again, repeating that same ritual of pushing past his lips until—

Carlos blinked once, twice, then more rapidly, trying to clear the blurry edges of his vision.

_There was no way, no fucking way—not after just a few drops—it’d never been that potent—_

He blinked again, more heavily, and realized someone’s arms around him. He whimpered, trying to get free of them, but a voice breathed hot into his ear, “Shhhh... you’re fine, you’re fine. It’s just me, pup.” Jay’s warm hand on his hip made him shiver; he could feel his fingers tracing bone, feel them creeping past his waistband. “You’re safe now,” he was murmuring. “I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, but no pressure. <3
> 
> If you have any ideas for scenes you'd be interested to see explored in this AU, don't hesitate to let me know! I have some stuff in mind for several oneshots to come, but I'm always open to hearing your thoughts. This AU will be composed exclusively of oneshots, drabbles, or very, very short multi-chaps, so there's lots of room to jump around in the timeline. :)
> 
> If you want to browse my T-rated Descendants fics, [you'll find them under my other pseud.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hersilentlanguage/pseuds/Sparrow)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr for lots more Descendants content: [@hersilentlanguage](http://hersilentlanguage.tumblr.com)
> 
>  **DETAILED CW:** dehumanization (mostly Mal); rape/non-con (penetration); non-con drug use and themes of addiction; emotional, psychological, and sexual abuse; swearing (in angry context); semi-graphic description of death by fire (non-gratuitous description IMO, but there's enough detail to paint a disturbing image); non-con witnessing of death/dying (Mal); non-con physical restraints and gags; parental abuse; and depiction of romantic/sexual relationships that are in no way meant to be a healthy portrait of love.
> 
> _I think that's everything, but please let me know if you think I missed something or if there's something you'd like me to tag for in the future! I try very hard to make my CW notes as detailed as possible._


	2. Play Destroy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments on the first chap, everyone! I'm so happy you're all enjoying this series and I'm so excited to share this next part with you! Huge thank you to @telli1206 for reading my first draft of this thing (which I ended up scrapping because I hated it lol) and helping me find my muse again. ;) AND another huge thank you to @annoyingmeviestan for fuelling the dark!Malvie fire with the most gorgeous WIP shots of art she's working on inspired by this fic. ~~It's so beautiful, you all don't even know. I'm super excited about it.~~ Much love and please enjoy this new chap! <3
> 
> **Quick note:** I've moved this fic to a secondary AO3 account (@sparrowluna) so as to better accommodate readers who only follow me for T-rated fics on my primary account, so be sure to subscribe to this account specifically if you're interested in getting updates when I post darkfic and/or explicit content from now on. I've also set up a new sideblog on Tumblr to the same end ([@sparrowluna](http://sparrowluna.tumblr.com)). If you ever feel like chatting darkfic with me, my ask box there will be open for it anytime! For anything else, you can just catch me on my main ([@hersilentlanguage](http://hersilentlanguage.tumblr.com)), where I usually hang out. :)
> 
> **Detailed CW for this fic can be found in the end notes due to spoilers (refer to tags for general CW).**

“Jay.” (He froze.) “Come here, I need you.”

Sighing, Jay craned his neck to press a kiss behind Carlos’ earlobe. “Sorry, pup,” he breathed out, so only Carlos would hear. “When the cat’s away…” He gave Carlos’ cock a gentle squeeze, eliciting a soft moan that made him smile as he pulled his hand out, purposefully teasing his fingers along the half-hard length. “Be back soon,” he promised, though it was more a hope than a certainty.

“I’m _waiting,”_ Evie reminded him, tone verging on a warning.

“Coming, princess,” Jay replied with a lilt and an edge of mocking. He disentangled himself from the old silk sheets, taking time to come around the bed and pull them up to Carlos’ chin, smiling wide as he met with pupils huge and depthless. He could drown in those eyes, just given the chance—

Evie cleared her throat loudly. _Impatient as ever._

Jay rolled his eyes so only Carlos could see, mouthing something that must have been an insult by the way he winked and pressed a finger to his lips before turning away. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

Carlos whimpered softly as he watched Jay go, his tongue too dry and weighted to beg— _let me go, too—let me go._ He stretched his neck out, curled his toes, tried to focus on feeling his body. It took effort to even attempt the struggle, but he managed to shift in the ropes that bound him, flexing his elbows and wriggling his wrists. That was all he _could_ do, he quickly found. There was no escaping—

Not when Jay had tied the knots. Not when Jay had taught him where to hide his knives.

_Good be damned._

He was fading fast—had to pant for breath as he lay there, not sure when his eyes had closed, but knowing he _couldn’t sleep—couldn’t just give up—he couldn’t, he couldn’t—he fucking would not—_

He opened his eyes.

And in the dim light, there was Evie.

“Still awake?” she asked quietly, her expression unreadable. “It’s past your bedtime, ‘Los…” (She smiled, then, but it was a strange curve—too sharp to be pleasant.) “I know you’d rather watch…”

Carlos blinked at her, staring dazedly as she stepped aside, turning her head back toward the table where Jay was at work several feet away, cutting Mal free of her ropes and helping her to stand—

_No. Not stand. Not—not standing… exactly._

Carlos’ head jerked up—so sudden, it should have been painful, but for the drug that left him numb all over. He made a panicked, choking noise, gaze flickering to Evie as she bent to block his view of her project, murmuring, “I really think you should sleep, pup. You look tired.”

Saying that, Evie pushed his head down with one hand and pinched the hem of the sheet with the other, pulling it up until it blocked out all the light and the sight of Mal’s… re-making, but—

Not her strangled gasps or the squelching sound of wet skin on metal, not that phantom hum of Evie’s, not the sound of wheels on the cold stone floor, and not Jay’s softly uttered, “Mistress…”

* * *

“Almost beautiful, aren’t you?” Evie whispered to the doll, standing close behind her with her arms encircling, hands trailing up her torso. “Almost perfect.” She smiled, gently squeezing at her breasts.

Jay stood awkwardly aside, trying not to watch too closely. He’d done what he was asked to—set the doll upon her stand: an ugly metal base with four wheels and a pipe to hold a rod snug. He’d made it for Evie as a practical thing—something to hold up the mannequin she usually propped against the wall; but now, here was Mal impaled upon it, her wetness slicking the metal, dripping thickly—

Jay made a face at the thought of having touched her there, having had to grab the pole as it began to slide out from between her thighs, threatening to clatter out onto the stone floor. He’d gotten some of the doll’s… _excretion_ on his hand as he shoved the pole back up between her stiff and ice-cold legs.

He didn’t get the appeal of this, honestly—the appeal of a doll, so death-like to the touch—

No, give him a body soft and warm, a pretty mouth to speak his name or even scream it.

He wanted a struggle, a bit of a chase, the appeal of… prey to sink his teeth in.

Fuck, he was hard at the thought of it, blood electric with the urge to lick up Carlos’ neck, snare his wrists and ankles, make him tremble from desire and fear and sheer uncertainty—no, fully _knowing_ what Jay could do to him, if only he wanted—

_Anything,_ he thought, feeling painfully hard now. He could do _anything_ to Carlos—if only he _could._

Jay’s eyes focused back on Evie, then—a bitterness on his tongue as he watched her step up in front of her plaything, lay her hands on its shoulders, and smile to herself, all alone in her fantasy—

“You need a name,” she was saying, fingers tapping on the doll’s skin. “I think I’ll call you…” She paused, considering. “Hmm.” She brought a hand up, twirling a piece of unbrushed purple hair around her finger. “Miss Violet White,” she declared with a smile. “That’s a pretty name for you.”

Jay suppressed an eye-roll, itching to be dismissed from his station. He couldn’t see the point in him standing around while Evie played with her doll—not while Carlos lay alone and so close, he could almost touch him—just out of sight there beneath the folds of Evie’s moth-eaten linens…

(Evie, though, would not be rushed, least of all by _his_ desires.)

Jay could only watch as she toyed with Mal—er, the _doll;_ the doll who was now, besides her eyes, a convincing picture of a lifelike plaything, a soulless object. He’d watched her become that in what’d seemed a matter of seconds as he held her head steady, felt her jaws flex and her cheeks puff—even felt a plump, warm tear trickle down and sting his wrist in that moment Evie jabbed in the needle.

That sting was still there now, but fainter—just a tingling feeling that might be guilt (or pity)—

She’d looked _pathetic_ as she lay there, body rigid as a corpse. He’d met her eyes to look for a sign of something—any sign of the leader she _had_ been, but—there was only fear there as he cut the ropes, and more tears when he’d pulled out the apple that gagged her. She’d had no fight until he’d gotten her upright, pushed the pole in deeper, and set her down on the base—that’s when she’d caught his eye with a dangerous flash of green and he’d thought, for a moment, he’d seen a dragon in her—

But that was only a moment.

Stepping back, he’d seen a naked woman posed as stiffly as a scarecrow.

He’d almost laughed, she looked so awkward—thighs spread, knees bent, arms like drooping wings, and her hair like a bird’s nest. _Had she always seemed so… breakable, so human? Had she always seemed—_

“You’re staring,” Evie cut into Jay’s thoughts, making him stutter, trying to think what to answer. “I didn’t think you liked dolls,” she continued with a hint of a smirk. “Do you want to play with her?”

The doll gasped, maybe from the question—maybe from Evie’s sharp tug at her nipple.

“I’ll pass,” Jay muttered, eyes wandering to the bed.

* * *

Next that Carlos knew, the darkness was receding and, again, there was Evie with her unreadable expression, but this time, Jay was standing behind her, all but hovering at her shoulder—

Evie sighed and clicked her tongue as she took a seat on the edge of the bed. “You’re being naughty,” she chided, tapping Carlos’ nose. “If you don’t go to sleep, you’ll be too tired to play tomorrow…”

Carlos swallowed thickly, catching Jay’s eye for just a moment before Evie grabbed his chin.

“You _need_ to sleep,” she declared with a warning tone, her pretty face crumpling when Carlos tried to shake his head in protest. “Yes,” she grit out, forcing his head to bob in agreement, “you do.”

And with that, she dug her free hand between her breasts, soon producing a vial of his medicine.

“Say _ahhh…_ ” (He clenched his jaw tight.) “Carlos, _open.”_ (He refused her.) “Jay, if you would…”

Jay was there in a second, one thumb brushing over Carlos’ bottom lip—a tender prelude to the force that followed. He opened Carlos’ mouth as wide as it went, angling his face up toward the ceiling—

_“Ngh,”_ Carlos choked out, tears stinging at his eyes.

Evie leaned in, humming contentedly. “I know it’s yucky,” she told him, as if talking to a child, “but doesn’t it always make you feel better?” She uncorked the vial and tipped it over his throat, letting a generous spill flood in around his tongue. “Be a good boy and swallow. I’ll bring you some water.”

At her nod, Jay began to force Carlos’ mouth shut, tipping his head back until he started to gag, then finally swallowed. “Good boy,” Jay praised softly, dragging calloused fingers across freckled cheeks.

He stepped back from the bedside a short second later, hearing Evie’s heels click, fast returning—

“Don’t coddle him,” she tutted, giving Jay a sharp look. “You’re rewarding bad behaviour.”

Jay aborted a scoff, glancing down to force an air of deference. He sensed a storm brewing in her—one that’d come out of nowhere. No sense arguing with a force like that, so he kept his head down as she looked over Carlos.

He was clearly asleep now—eyes shut, breathing soft and slow—

“Untie him,” she ordered Jay, setting the water on the bedside table, “then you may go.” She looked to see if he’d argue, and when he didn’t, she seemed to relax some. “Tomorrow…” She trailed off, looking long at Carlos. “He could use a bath.” Her eyes flickered to Jay. “Would you help him?”

Jay slowly raised his head, feeling warmth bloom in his stomach. “It’d be my pleasure, princess.”

“Good,” said Evie, nodding approval; then, with a last look to Carlos— “Use the tub outside.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments are always appreciated, but no pressure. <3
> 
> Can you guess what's coming next in this series...? ;) Yeah, it's bathtime with Jaylos... and as for Malvie, well... you'll see. I'll _probably_ add the next bit as a new chapter for this story, but not 100% sure yet, so I'm marking this as complete for now. :)
> 
> If you want to browse my T-rated Descendants fics, [you'll find them under my other pseud](http://archiveofourown.org/users/hersilentlanguage/pseuds/Sparrow).
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr for lots more Descendants content: [@hersilentlanguage](http://hersilentlanguage.tumblr.com)
> 
> **DETAILED CW:** dehumanization (mostly Mal); rape/non-con (penetration); non-con drug use and themes of addiction; emotional, psychological, and sexual abuse; swearing (in angry context); non-con physical restraints and gags; and depiction of romantic/sexual relationships that are in no way meant to be a healthy portrait of love.
> 
> _I think that's everything, but please let me know if you think I missed something or if there's something you'd like me to tag for in the future! I try very hard to make my CW notes as detailed as possible._


End file.
